Soul Fire
by Doppler Effect
Summary: An accident leaves a hole in the ground, but also a hole in Mustang's team as the two Elric brothers suffer a horrible fate. In his determination to make this right, Mustang begins to take advice from his hallucination of Edward. But as the colonel gets nearer to his goal, he can't help but notice that the hallucination seems to have goals of his own.


An: I got a review for a story I wrote (also not very happy but hey) called _The Best Dreams_ and the reviewer said something that prompted this, although I don't think it was his/her intention.

* * *

"Look," Edward said impatiently, kicking his feet up on the couch, "Sanswell's a dead end! Just look at the report!"

"I _am_ looking at the report" Mustang said irritably, "but I can't dismiss a complaint just because it's obviously going nowhere!"

Edward groaned and thumped his head against the arm of the couch. "Just give it to Havoc or somebody. You do that all the time anyway. We've got other things to be doing! The research, remember? Or did that slip your mind?"

Mustang's pen paused on the paper. Edward glanced over, expression halfway between irritated and concerned, not sure if he had pushed the matter too far. Finally, the nib returned to writing as the colonel dryly replied, "It's a little hard to forget with your constant harping. You do remember the military's funds are not solely for your use, right?"

Edward snorted. "It's not_ my_ research, it's yours. I'm just helping."

"You _better_ help," Mustang grumbled.

"Yeah, well," Edward said, stretching out across the couch, "it's your fault anyway that I'm in this mess."

The door opened, admitting Hawkeye. She dumped a stack of files on the desk. "General Hakuro stopped by yesterday while you were out," she informed him. "The higher ups want updates on the investigation."

Mustang sighed and waved it off. "I'll send a report in. That usually makes them happy. Any more word on Alphonse?" His avid interest in her answer was only portrayed in the way he went perfectly still and held Hawkeye's gaze.

She grimaced. "…No, sir. We'll keep looking."

"Do the higher ups-?"

"Still unaware something's wrong, sir. We've been discreet in our searching."

Mustang nodded. "Of course."

Hawkeye left, shutting the door behind her. Mustang sighed, rubbing his face with his hand while Edward watched silently. The quiet stretched on for several long moments while the colonel stared at the floor and the young alchemist observed.

"You know what happened," Edward accused. "Why bother looking?"

"Because I have to know for sure!" Mustang snapped, being careful to keep his voice down so no one past the door would hear him. "Do you want me investigating or not?"

"You should be researching, and you know it. Only I can help Al right now because I was the only one who was there. You can't do anything for him. Besides, you don't want him back so he can help. You just want him back so you have someone to say sorry to," Edward snarled, getting to his feet and pacing around the desk.

Mustang clenched his teeth and looked at the door. "I don't want – "

"You don't _want_? What about what _I_ want? I guess that doesn't really matter, considering my situation, so maybe we should ignore my feelings entirely."

"I didn't mean for any of this to happen," Mustang said softly, not meeting the teenager's eyes.

"That's what we all say when we mess up."

Mustang closed his eyes and composed himself. "Let's go home. I don't feel like doing any more work today."

* * *

Hawkeye looked up as she saw Mustang walk out of his office, coat already on. "Leaving early, sir?"

He nodded briskly and gave no explanation before leaving. Havoc glanced at her questioningly. "Is he…?"

She grimaced. "He has to work it out himself. There's nothing we can do for him."

* * *

Mustang's living room hadn't looked neat for over two months. All the furniture had been pushed into a corner or out into the hallway to clear space for a research area in the center of the room. Books and papers were piled up along the walls and on the floor, but they were carefully kept out of the way of a large transmutation circle in the very heart of the room. The chalk lines had permanently stained the carpet, but it would be a long time before anyone would notice or care.

Edward perched on a chair, watching Mustang glare at some of the lines. "That's not getting you anywhere," he pointed out.

Mustang threw him a look over his shoulder. "Thanks for that obvious statement." He stood up, brushing imaginary dust off of his knees. "I think we have to do something about the negation between the gyrosphere and the hypotension. Once that's settled down, the whole thing will be a lot more balanced and we can work on more of the details."

Edward groaned, leaning his head back against the chair. "You're missing the obvious, _again_! Stop and think!"

Mustang scowled, gesturing at the alchemical array. "I am! Look at all of that! Clear demonstration of thought process, right there! What would you do differently? I don't see you giving out any ideas!"

"I would have already figured it out!" He slid off the chair and stalked around the array, muttering incomprehensibly to himself. Mustang gritted his teeth, knowing if he could just pick out the words, he would be able to fix the array. The solution was on the tip of his mind, balanced between conscious recollection and the abyss of forgotten memories.

"Give me some help here instead of just taking up space!" Mustang snapped.

Edward whirled around and stalked over. Mustang blinked and stepped back at the ferocity in the boy's pace and the determination in his eyes. No one could have replicated that strong will, not even the boy's brother. In fact, if Mustang weren't entirely sure it was otherwise, he would have sworn that the person he saw was-

Edward forcefully placed both hands on either side of Mustang's head, covering his ears. "You're listening to too many things," he scolded. "Now _think_, or everything is forfeit."

Mustang scowled. "No need to be so melodramatic, Fullmetal."

"The longer you wait, the more irreparable everything becomes," Edward snapped. "You know that as well as I do. There's no one else who can fix this and you're running out of time, so you better come up with a solution and _fast_. Close your eyes." Mustang huffed irritably but Edward gave him a frustrated glare and he complied. "Okay. Who am I?"

"You've got to be joking," Mustang muttered.

Edward cuffed him upside the head. "Focus! Who am I?"

"Edward Elric."

"Why's that important?"

Mustang frowned. "Why would that matter?"

"Why do you have to do this?"

Mustang ground his teeth together. "Because…I-I have to."

Edward's hands began to hurt his head. "_Why_?"

"I failed you."

"Right. What are you going to do about it?"

"Fix it. Make it right. This transmutation circle's going to work."

"No, you're going to get yourself killed searching for an answer and everyone who cares about you is going to be horribly upset when you screw up. You're going to fail again, but you're going to fail even worse than last time. Now, who am I? Don't beat around the bush. Who am I, in relation to you? Why am I so important?"

Mustang fisted his hands and bowed his head slightly in a futile effort to hide his tortured expression from Edward. "Because you're…you. Everyone around you gets affected by you."

"_Liar_. You don't get stressed out over people who aren't close to you. I cause trouble wherever I go, and it would be all too easy to get a promotion out of me by throwing me to the wolves. Why did you never do that? Why do you still care? Stop screwing around and just _say it_!" Edward said, shouting the last sentence.

The house was dead silent for the next few seconds. "Because despite everything you've done to me," Mustang said, clenching his eyes closed tightly, "despite all the towns you've pissed off, despite all the officials you've sworn out, and despite all the general trouble you've caused…" He took a deep breath to calm a shudder that ran through him. "You are the bravest, smartest, strongest, and kindest teenager I have ever known…" he said, reaching up to grip the hands around his head and make sure they were still there, "…and it was my fault you're in this mess, because I shouldn't have been stupid enough to send you after a dangerous alchemist, and I should have known…I should have known that you might not make it back." He opened his eyes, looking at the golden pair in front of him. "And I will never forgive myself if I let you die now!"

Edward didn't smile, but there was something in his eyes that told Mustang he had said the right thing. "Don't forget that, or you _will _fail me."

"I won't," Mustang said, determination gripping him. He shut his eyes and released Edward's hands, letting his arms drop down to his side. "You were always the smarter one," he continued, although he would never admit that again. "Show me. What am I missing?"

He could almost hear Edward smirk. "Fine. Who am I?"

"We already went through this."

"You want help or not?" Edward snapped, the teenage cynicism leaking into his tone. "Answer me."

"Edward Elric. You're Edward Elric."

"Why's that important?"

"Because you do things that shouldn't be…almost _couldn't_ be possible."

"In particular, what have I done?"

"Human transmutation."

"Why did I survive?"

"I don't know! I'm not a genius like you."

"That doesn't mean you can't figure it out even if you couldn't have done it yourself at my age. Why did Al and I survive when so many before us died? What was different about the price we paid?"

"It was split between both of you!" Mustang opened his eyes in surprise. "That's why!" Edward smirked triumphantly. "The cost didn't just come from one person! Alphonse should have lost his soul too, but you gave your leg and that balanced it enough that you didn't die!"

"You've got the gist of it," Edward said with a laugh. "Close your eyes again. You're getting there."

Mustang reached up and pulled Edward's hands from his head so he could turn away. "Already gotten to it! We need multiple people to give a price! If we divide it up enough, the effects will be too slight for anyone to suffer a lost limb or anything else! Edward, who would be willing to give something up for you and Al? Is there anyone who would be willing to try this that we can contact?"

Edward snorted. "Of course. While a lot of them argue with me, I have made quite the impression on a lot of people. If you get some other alchemists to back your theory, you should have no trouble convincing them it should be alright."

"But does this mean…you could bring someone back to life? If you had enough people?" Mustang said, stopping and staring at the transmutation circle.

Edward shook his head. "No, the soul's already gone by the time you would be able to get enough people to perform the transmutation. If you had everyone prepared before the person died, maybe you could pull it off but I don't suggest trying it. Now, don't you have something else to be working on?"

Mustang glared at him for the interruption and stepped into the transmutation circle, making changes to allow for the new plan. "We're going to head back into the office later tonight," he said. "We're going to make this right, but we need enough people to do it. We'll need to call the Rockbells… If we can get a hold of your teacher that would be great… Everyone in the office will go for it, if I know them right… Armstrong would help… Anyone else you can think of?"

"First figure out how many people you need," Edward said, humor obvious in his voice. "No need to call in fifty people if you just need twenty-five."

"We need to find out how much is still here and working," Mustang said, grabbing his coat. "Come on, we're going to the hospital!"

Edward grinned, following him as the colonel nearly sprinted out the door. "Now you're getting there!" he crowed.

* * *

The hospital staff ignored Mustang as he strode through, used to him walking in every weekend. It was odd to see him on a week day, but they didn't comment. They had gotten used to not saying anything to him, no longer wanting to risk his wrath when he lashed out in frustration or anger. It wasn't uncommon to see such a reaction from family members or friends, but it was much harder to deal with when the person in question was a high ranking military member and was well known for practically roasting a good percentage of a country. He was trying not to run, but it was getting harder the further he went along the well-worn path. Edward wasn't with him. This was the only place he never followed nowadays. Apart from him, no one noticed the difference.

A five minute walk found him in one of the furthest corners of the hospital from the front doors. Mustang suspected they put people there when they doubted they would ever be walking out. That was fine by him. This one was going to be coming out soon, but he wouldn't mind a slightly longer walk than usual to make it to the doors.

Unsurprisingly, no one else was in the room. Mustang ignored the chair that seemed to be permanently by the bed side and stood next to the patient instead. Word would have spread around the hospital that he was in and that any tests or medication dosages needed to be delayed until he had left unless absolutely necessary, so no one would be coming in to bother him inadvertently. That suited him just fine. He didn't want to have to explain what he was doing here, especially to well-meaning doctors who thought they knew everything just because they had an M.D.

If he had wanted to, he probably could also have gotten an M.D. after the outrageous amount of research he had embarked on to try and fix this mess. Because of that, he knew most of the tricks to seeing how much of the brain was still active in the midst of a comatose state. The next half hour was spent repeatedly saying any similes to the word "short" that he could think of or make up while he introduced stimuli near the figure in the bed in an attempt to get any sort of reaction. When he ran out of things to try, he rocked back on his heels and blew out a breath.

"Alright," he said, having already made his decision over an hour ago but restating it out loud. His gaze locked onto the limp boy on the bed. "I have something I'm going to try, and you're going to help if you don't want to turn into a vegetable. We're going to do human transmutation." Without meaning to, he paused to wait for an outburst of shouting. Somehow, he was still mystified that the yelling never came. "But there may be a way to split the cost of it to the point that everyone who gives up something won't have to sacrifice nearly as much as they would have to on their own. I'd consult you on this, but you're refusing to wake up from your very long nap. Don't think this is going to get you out of any paperwork, pipsqueak."

_Scream and shout. Do it, I dare you. You'd never let me do this._

Nothing. Not even a twitch of his fingers to the despised word.

Mustang sighed. "Still don't know anything about Alphonse. We've been looking for him, but the building that fell down on the top of both of you was just too large. There's too much rubble for us to look through, and it's…it's rained several times since then, so we're trying not to disturb too much of it in case the debris is keeping him covered and safe. You're the only one who knows where he was in the building when it collapsed. We need you awake to look for him." He grimaced and stood a little straighter. "The doctors don't know what they're talking about. You just need to wake up and prove them wrong…without destroying half the building, preferably. Don't mean to cramp your style there, but that's just too much damn work for me to take care of."

He hesitated for a moment before giving in to temptation. Knowing this was something the hot-headed teenager would never allow were he fully conscious and in control of himself, Mustang reached out and placed a comforting hand on top of the boy's head. "You're also too damn much work for me to take care of," he added, "and I don't think I've done a very good job of it."

_Argue with me. Come on, tell me you don't need help._

The teenager stayed silent.

"I don't know if somewhere you can hear me…" _Please tell me he can't, or I'll never live this down._ "…but…" He coughed awkwardly and removed his hand, stepping back. "But we're all waiting for you. And none of us are very good at it. …And I think the hospital staff is going to ban me from here as soon as you wake up, which is fine because I don't like the crummy doctors here anyway."

_Complain that I should've put you in a better hospital if I had a problem with the staff._

Edward could've been sleeping, but he always looked at peace when he was just taking a nap. His brows were furrowed slightly, as if contemplating a problem, and the corners of his mouth were turned down at the corners in frustration. Maybe he did know what was going, deep down. Mustang would have thought it was a reaction to what he was saying if that expression hadn't been there ever since he came to the hospital.

"I'll be back," Mustang said, letting his hand drop from the boy's head. "It'll be fine. It'll all be fine."

He left, not looking back.

* * *

Doctors could be really stupid sometimes, Edward thought. Whenever he was hospitalized, they were always telling him that he shouldn't move with his injury or that he should stop getting into such dangerous situations. _Fine_, he would reply. _They next time someone's trying to kill me, I'll just ask if we can point out fingers and shout BANG at each other!_

Doctors could also be horribly wrong. A week after he got to the hospital, his hearing capabilities woke back up, stimulating certain parts of his mind. Sight was still beyond him, along with any sort of vocalization or movement. It was agonizing, only being able to hear what was going on and but unable to affect anything. Winry had come in, back when he had just been admitted, and cried for an hour straight while she fixed his automail. Through some stroke of luck it seemed that Izumi didn't know what had happened yet. Some in Mustang's team had gotten the genius idea of borrowing alchemical textbooks from the library and reading them aloud whenever they stopped by, so not only was he hearing familiar faces, but also familiar texts. Even though he had already rest almost all of those books and knew the information, it was still a nice thought.

Mustang himself was the hardest to contend with. The jerk had come in the first few weeks, acting like it was all Edward's fault he was in this mess – like he'd had a choice or something! He'd been his usual arrogant self, right up until the point where they hit the two month marker. Then he hadn't stopped by for three straight weeks, which Edward hadn't thought was all that surprising. After all, the man surely had more important things to do than check on a comatose subordinate.

Hawkeye had come in during the last week of Mustang's hiatus, reading from the alchemical text in a sad voice. Right before she left, she explained the cause of her distress. _He's not right, the colonel,_ she'd said. _I don't know what to do anymore. You two mean more to each other than either of you realize._

Mustang came back after that, and he never missed a weekend again. It was strange, because despite his three week absence, Edward almost wished he would just stop talking when he came by. There was a sorrow in his voice that he tried to hide, profound and deep. Edward had heard it in his own voice after his mother had died when he tried to pretend it was going to be alright in front of Alphonse. It made him uneasy, and he started hoping that Mustang wouldn't follow down the same path he had when it seemed like there was no other option.

_**F… t…**_Ignore that, like he always did. It was just the mantra that had been going through his mind ever since he got here.

Despite Edward's remaining doubts about what Hawkeye had said, it soon became obvious to him that there was something very wrong with the colonel. His attitude became steadily terser towards the hospital staff until they couldn't bear to be in the same room with him. Anything he said to Edward was accusing or exasperated, and one time he went so far as to yell his head off while he demanded to know why the young alchemist was doing this to everyone. Even if Edward had been able to speak, he probably wouldn't have said anything in his defense in the wake of that storm. After that, he'd had no trouble believing that Hawkeye was right, and that there was something very wrong with the man.

The next time he came back, Mustang had just sat there silently. The only way Edward was sure it was him was because none of the doctors had time to do that and any of his other visitors would be reading one of the alchemical texts. He had finally walked out, still silent as the grave. That was when Edward knew this was only going to go downhill from there.

_**ght… ai…**_

The next weekend produced a talkative Mustang. He told Edward everything the doctors knew about his condition and a few of his own speculations. He explained the problems with taking him off life support now, but also let him know that the longer they waited, the less likely it became for him to wake up. It was just another way of telling him he was going to do something stupid soon.

And now this.

He had started by running a bunch of tests that the doctors did every day, repeatedly calling him variations of "short". Without twitching, he scowled to himself and suffered through it. His patience was going to be the only thing that had benefited from this experience.

_**F…ai…**_

Then he'd started talking, and Edward really wished he would just shut up.

"Alright," Mustang had started. "I have something I'm going to try, and you're going to help if you don't want to turn into a vegetable. We're going to do human transmutation."

No.

No, no, no, nonononono-

"But there may be a way to split the cost of it to the point that everyone who gives up something won't have to sacrifice nearly as much as they would have to on their own."

_YOU IDIOT! YOU ABSOLUTE FOOL!_

"I'd consult you on this, but you're refusing to wake up from your very long nap. Don't think this is going to get you out of any paperwork, pipsqueak."

_YOU BETTER HOPE I NEVER WAKE UP OR I'LL PUNCH YOUR FACE OFF!_

Mustang sighed, oblivious to the silent screaming. "Still don't know anything about Alphonse. We've been looking for him, but the building that fell down on the top of both of you was just too large. There's too much rubble for us to look through, and it's…it's rained several times since then, so we're trying not to disturb too much of it in case the debris is keeping him covered and safe. You're the only one who knows where he was in the building when it collapsed. We need you awake to look for him."

Alphonse. He'd been down in the basement. Chances were that he was safe down there, so long as they didn't shift anything critical and then not investigate down there before the next thunderstorm.

_**Ai…t..**_

"The doctors don't know what they're talking about. You just need to wake up and prove them wrong…without destroying half the building. Don't mean to cramp your style there, but that's just too damn much work for me to take care of."

_I've never only destroyed half the building in my life! Go big or go home. _

There was a long pause, and Edward's fried nerves instantly went on alert. He heard a shuffle as Mustang moved, then felt a hand on his head. "You're also too damn much work for me to take care of, and I don't think I've done a very good job of it."

_Goddamn it, Mustang, this isn't a custody law suit, it's a matter of you making the worst mistake of your life!_

"I don't know if somewhere you can hear me…"

_Maybe you should've considered that before you started speaking, 'cause I'm giving you an earful when I wake up!_

"…but…" Mustang coughed and removed the hand from Edward's head. The warmth that went with it was missed, but there was no way Edward would ever admit that. "But we're all waiting for you. And none of us are very good at it. …And I think the hospital staff is going to ban me from here as soon as you wake up, which is fine because I don't like the crummy doctors here anyway."

_I'M going to ban you from every hospital if you become like this whenever you go to one!_

"I'll be back," Mustang said, letting his hand drop from the boy's head. "It'll be fine. It'll all be fine."

_Get the hell back here so I can punch you!_

The door closed.

_Colonel, you bastard, you can't do that!_

_Not for anyone, not for me. _

_It's not worth it. Shouldn't you know that? Don't you know how confident we were before we almost died? Haven't you watched us struggling enough to think twice?_

He was too headstrong. The colonel would never back down from this, not when he seemed so confident in his success.

_Just listen to me for once!_

_Don't do it. Don't. _

_**f…gh…**_

_Shush, not now._

_**fai…**_

_**f…ght…**_

**fight…**

**fightfightfight…ght…ight…fight…fight…**

Edward gave a defiant snarl to himself.

_Let's do it. _

_**fight**_**fightFIGHT**

_**FIGHT!**_

* * *

Edward opened his eyes, but then narrowed them immediately in concentration. He sat up, ripping out the IV from his arm without hesitation. That's not to say that he didn't regret the aggressive action instantly as blood squirted out from the hole, and he pressed his arm against his hospital shift to try and stop it down. The fast movement also made his head spin, and it was several minutes before he even thought about moving again.

Much slower this time around, he disconnected the heart rate monitor from his finger and looked around the room for where his clothes might be. Realizing there were too many drawers for him to waste time searching, he clapped his hands together and touched them to the hospital shift, transmuting it into a pair of pants and a shirt instead. There was no way to hide the automail arm, but that wasn't something he cared about at the moment.

He pushed himself up from the bed and got off, although any witnesses would have claimed it looked more like he was _rolling_ off. A few seconds were spared to inhale and exhale deeply, getting his air flow going. He raised his arms above his head as he did so, and then lowered his upper body until his head was below his waist, letting the blood pump up into his brain much more efficiently.

After deciding he'd wasted enough time with this rejuvenation crap, he strode out the door.

Then he walked back in, grabbed the alchemical textbook and the pocket watch next to it, and left again.

For good.

* * *

The door slammed against the door, adding one more mark to the layer of permanent dents in the wall. The entire office jumped and looked at the intruder in surprise. As one, they rose and saluted, more out of shock than courtesy. The pale and irritable teenager was certainly a sight to behold.

"Boss!"

"Ed!"

"How…?"

"When did you wake up?"

"_Where is he_?" Edward's voice and expression made the soldiers freeze, their excited faces turning confused. It wasn't the anger in his tone that made them freeze – rather, it was the lack of the presence that he normally had that caused them to pause. While the boy was still angry, he just didn't have the same effect as he usually did. The extended hospital stay and his weakened state probably had something to do with it. He gritted his teeth and visibly restrained himself from shouting. "The colonel. Where did he go?"

Hawkeye frowned. "Home, I suppose. Why, what happened?"

"I'm going to kill him if he hasn't already succeeded in getting himself disintegrated!" Edward snapped, whipping around and stalking back out, grabbing the door and yanking it closed behind himself.

A few moments of silence fell over the room.

"He didn't have any shoes on," Havoc finally stated. "Did anyone else notice that?"

Hawkeye gave him a look. "No. Why did you?" she said, annoyed.

Havoc frowned slightly, rubbing his chin. "He looks smaller without them."

* * *

"I don't have the Rockbell's number," Mustang said, a smile on his face for the first time in months. It felt strange and foreign to be grinning once again. "We'll grab it when we go back into work. Same with the Curtis's."

Edward crouched on the arm of a chair. "Hey, there's something wrong with this…"

Mustang waved him off. "It'll be fine. Besides, I'm not activating it tonight."

"That's not what I mean." Edward's serious tone should have immediately warned Mustang but the colonel continued obliviously.

"We'll have to wait until everyone gets here to begin, but I'm sure a delay by a week won't be too much of a problem for you after several months in a coma." Mustang looked over and smirked. "I suppose you're going to owe me one after this, huh? You're never going to be able to live that down."

* * *

After his hasty retreat, Edward had gone back and gotten the address of the colonel's house before taking off towards it. He would never admit to getting lost twice when all of the streets in Central were numbered and in a grid pattern, nor would he ever mention the amount of times he fell because his limbs were still so weak from the comatose state he had previously been in. Not only that, but he was rather dizzy and he had to stop a few times before he fell down.

Later, he wouldn't even be able to recall what Mustang's house looked like because he had been so set on getting inside. The numbers on the outside, however, were burned into his memory - grey paint on a white mailbox. _78341_

Another thing he would not remember would be the door, nor the fact that he broke it. The colonel would remember, but that would only be because he had to pay to have it fixed and not because he was listening when the door busted inward.

* * *

Mustang sat back against the wall, frowning in concentration at the array. "I still can't believe I managed it, even _with_ you helping me," he muttered. "What're you going to do when you wake up?" he asked suddenly, looking across the room at where his mind's Edward was sprawled on the floor facedown. Dimly, he realized it was the first time he had asked his hallucination a question about something like that. He hadn't dared before, but now that there was an end in sight, it seemed alright to try.

Edward raised himself up on his elbows, frowning thoughtfully for a moment before looking over at Mustang and saying, "I'll yell at you. Loudly. And probably hit you a few times. Then I'll lead you straight to where Alphonse is, because it was obvious."

Mustang sighed. He wanted it to sound exasperated, but he was too elated for it to come out sounding anything but good-humored. "Of course. Now, my subconscious, why exactly would it be so obvious where a suit of armor would be hiding in a destroyed building?" He paused. "Wait, how did we avoid seeing it? The building wasn't that big…" He looked across at Edward, who was looking back in stunned silence. "If you want to do one of your inspiration-striking things, this would be a great time to do it."

Instead of replying, Edward just stared at him for a few more seconds before saying slowly, like he wasn't sure how Mustang would take it, "I'm not your subconscious."

Mustang waved the statement off. "Hallucination, same thing."

"I…I'm not that either. You didn't create me."

Mustang's brain stuttered and died.

"Wait… _What_?"

"You don't know what I am?" Edward said in a bewildered tone, sitting up. His concentration was broken and he looked away from Mustang in the direction of the front of the house. "Oh."

Mustang frowned and started to ask what he was talking about, when he saw something move into his field of vision and it went through the door. He recognized it as a pant leg and whipped around, but the person was faster. Before he even had time to register who it was, the person had grabbed the front of his shirt and shoved him up against the wall. Then he found himself face to face with a very angry teenager.

"You. _Idiot_," the boy seethed.

Mustang blinked blankly, still processing what was happening.

"What the _hell _made you think you could accomplish that, huh?!" Edward shouted at him. "When Al and I couldn't? It takes the same price from _everyone_, no matter how you divide it up! If you'd stopped trying to play the hero all the time and actually stopped and thought about it, you would realize that it would never work! Why don't you _ever_ listen?"

Finally, the colonel spoke. "How did you find my house?" For some reason, this seemed very important.

"I asked Hawkeye!" Edward snapped, surprising both of them by actually answering.

Mustang blinked and shook himself from his state, reaching forward to grab Edward's shoulders. "Alphonse," he said. "He was in the building with you."

"Basement," Edward said. "He's out. I stopped by on the way over" He released Mustang's shirt, a little taken back by the ferocity with which the colonel was staring at him with. "It was close enough to Central HQ that I sent him to your office to let everyone know he was alright."

Mustang blew out a relieved breath and let him go. They both stepped away from each other. "Okay." He paused, eyeing him strangely. "How did you know Alphonse never got out?"

Edward scowled, folding his arms. "I could hear everything that was going on, I just couldn't respond to anything. Which just so happens to be the reason why I'm here demanding _why the hell you thought it was a good idea to try human transmutation!_"

Mustang realized his fist was coming before he saw it and ducked to move from its path. In spite of the reason behind the action, he dimly realized, Edward must have not waned to hurt him too badly because he used his human fist instead of his much more painful automail. As it was, his fist bounced off the wall where Mustang's head had been a moment before, leaving a dent in the wood.

"I didn't think it was the best of all ideas," Mustang replied, quickly stepping back and out of range, "but the longer you stayed asleep, the less likely it became you'd ever wake up!"

"I know," Edward shouted. "I was in the room!"

"In a coma!"

"But there!"

"What are you yelling at me for?! I didn't put you there!"

"You were an idiot about trying to get out of it!"

Mustang snarled then paused suddenly, trying not to let his gaze flicker from Edward's pissed-off face. Behind him, the not-hallucination was trying to get the colonel's attention, pointing energetically at the real Edward. When he realized Mustang had paused, the not-hallucination mimed fainting.

"What?" Edward demanded, noticing the silence.

"Sit down," Mustang said, gesturing to a chair. Even though he wanted to stay mad at the teenager, he could feel his anger seeping out into the air around him. It was hard to stay truly furious at a kid who'd he seen grow up from an ignorant brat of twelve to a somewhat experienced and halfway matured partial-adult of fifteen. The change in three years had been truly incredible. Not only that, but Mustang had to admit that he did have it coming, even if the dent in the wall had been unwarranted. "You look like you're going to fall over. Did you walk all the way from the hospital to here?"

Edward grumbled, "From the hospital to your office to the building Al was in to here," but turned to search out a seat anyway. As his gaze went over the room which he just now took the time to look at, he let out a startled shout and jumped back. He collided into Mustang, who let out a surprised grunt and pushed him back after realizing there was no danger.

"What?" he snapped irritably. "Where did you expect me to build it?" he continued, suspecting the boy was startled at seeing the human transmutation array once again in the middle of the floor.

"Forget the array!" Edward demanded, pointing to something else at eye level. "What the hell is _that_?"

Mustang paused. "Wait, you can see him too?" he exclaimed. To the definitely-not-hallucination Edward, he said, "You're really not just in my mind then?"

Not-Edward scowled. "Of course not. I doubt your memory's good enough to conjure up a replica of me this good." He glanced at the real one. "If you can't figure out who I am, I'm going to smack you with a corporeal fist."

The real Edward gave an identical scowl. "Yeah, I figured it out _now_, thanks. I was just surprised to see you…not in my body. What are you doing out there anyway?"

Mustang frowned, looking between the two in confusion. Now that he was searching for differences, they were rather obvious. The not-hallucination-but-not-Edward had sharper and bolder features, looking much more ethereal than the real one. His hair wasn't tidy by any stretch of the imagination, but it had been brushed at some point before it had been pulled back into a braid and it glowed with health. When he spoke, his tone was stronger and more confident, full of a tone that gave an impression he was pushing the entire time against whoever he was talking with. His shoulders were rolled back, chest confidently thrust forward as he hooked his thumbs in the pockets of his pants. He rarely blinked, and his keen golden eyes were full of an unknown kind of fire.

In contrast, the real Edward seemed to be obscured against the light of his counterpart. The coma had not been kind to him, nor had the sedentary lifestyle he had been forced to live for several months. He was considerably weaker and his body showed it, wavering where it stood slightly. His hair looked like a rat's nest, and his voice was nowhere near its normal strength. The largest difference was his eyes. They were just that, two orbs in his skull. It was so normal that Mustang had missed it before. Usually, they were bursting with life and attitude. The way he was now, Mustang could have passed Edward on the street and just thought he was an average teenager instead of the incredible young man he really was.

While he made these observations, not-Edward shrugged. "When we went through the Truth's gate, I got knocked loose and almost separated. We're split, I suppose you could say. It's why we're so prone to emotion or intellect, but not both at the same time. One of us takes over while the other sits back, but we usually don't notice it because it just seems natural to us. Then recently, when we almost died, I was knocked just a little looser."

Mustang stepped forward, to the side but in between both of them. He held his hands up, demanding their attention as he spoke. "Hold up. Who are you?" he asked, pointing at the bolder of the two Edwards.

The teenagers looked at each other. "How to explain…" the previously hospitalized one muttered. "Okay, think of it like this. Our souls all have their main components to them. There's a lot compacted in them, but they can be summarized in a few words. The two basic parts of mine are the intellect and emotion." He pointed at himself, "I'm intellect," and then at the other, "and he's emotion. It's why some of the things he told you were probably wrong or misleading." He glared at his counterpart. "Right?"

The other teenager scowled and kicked a nearby chair. "Yeah, whatever. You look like shit anyway, smartass."

"Yeah, well, you tried to get everyone else killed!"

"Hey, at least I was doing something!"

"You're a liar and a coward!"

Emotion Edward stepped forward, snarling. "Yeah? At least I didn't have to wait for someone else to get me out of this mess! I figured it out myself and I've been stuck in this mess because you couldn't get your shit together! You know how hard Winry cried when she heard what happened? And she didn't even have Alphonse to help her! Whose fault was that? Whose fault was it that Alphonse _wasn't there_-?"

"_Shut up_!" Intellect Edward shouted back at him, unsteadily crossing half of the room to come face to face with his Emotion side. Mustang was too stunned at the speed and intensity with which they argued to stop him. "You ever considered that it was all your fault? Yeah, maybe you couldn't have done it without me, but I wouldn't have started it without you forcing me to do it!"

"Teacher said again and again that there had to be equivalent exchange! Did you listen? Ever? Apparently not, because it went right out your head!" Emotion Edward smacked his palm against Intellect Edward's forehead. "You were supposed to protect Alphonse! Is he safe now? _Well_? He almost died again, and it was your fault! You had people around you, trying to get you out of the dark, and he had no one! Not until you pulled him out, and reconstructed his armor so he could go tell everyone that it was going to be okay! 'Cause you can't lie like that anymore, can you? Not when you know you fucked up too badly for it to be alright ever again."

The silence that followed was worse than the arguing.

Mustang reached forward and grabbed Emotion Edward's shoulder, yanking the boy around to face him. Before he fully realized what he was doing, his fist collided with Emotion Edward's face and he hit the ground. Intellect Edward jumped, looking at Mustang in surprise. The colonel ignored him, glaring at the one on the ground. With all the things he wanted to say, somehow the only thing that came out was an unintelligent, "You're stupid!"

Emotion Edward gave him a sardonic look and started getting to his feet.

"Both of you!" Mustang continued, glancing over at Intellect Edward to include him in the statement. "Is this what it's always like inside your head?"

Emotion Edward retained his sullen silence, but Intellect Edward shrugged slightly. "Sometimes." He gestured to his counterpart. "That one can't stand not being able to do anything, so he throws blame around because if someone did something bad, then harming that person should fix the problem. The problem is, sometimes we're to blame. Other times he blames the wrong people, or he says something he doesn't mean. I'll bet he said some pretty harsh things to you while he was here, didn't he?"

Mustang grimaced but didn't respond to that particular question. "Can we put you back together?"

"No clue," Emotion Edward said. "See, I'm not entirely here. You were there in the hospital, right before we went into surgery. Our soul started to disconnect itself from the body. In other words, we were dying. I went first while the other part tried to hang on because he thought the doctors would succeed. You were close enough that I found you before I was entirely separated from this world."

Mustang nodded in understanding. "So you're not in my head, per say, but rather with me. That's why no one else can see you."

Intellect Edward nodded. "He's strung up between the two of us. That's also why he's so quick to anger all the time instead of just every once in a while like normal. He's pretty tense right now because he's not secured to a body. The fact that he was able to wake me up is a good sign, though. I couldn't stir earlier because we were so separated."

"Hold on. You came in and punched me," he said to Intellect Edward, "and you were helping me with alchemy," he added to Emotion Edward. The latter interrupted before he could continue.

"We're not split exactly between feelings and knowledge," Emotion Edward explained. "Since it's so integral to our nature, there are parts of both in either section of the soul."

"Then if there's still a part of you in each other, you should be able to reconnect," Mustang established.

"You make it sound so simple," Emotion Edward huffed, flopping down in a chair. "You've done nothing – in fact, you almost made the situation _worse_ – and you always get in our way! Why don't you just let us work this out, huh?"

Mustang gave him a dry look. "If you hadn't noticed, you're having an identity crisis in the middle of _my house_, thank you!"

"You're a bastard, you know that?!" Emotion Edward said, shifting awkwardly in his chair.

"You remind me every day," Mustang replied coolly.

Emotion Edward practically threw himself out of the chair to yell in Mustang's face, "I hate you!"

Mustang forced himself not to grimace at the pure anger in the teenager's eyes, explaining it away as Edward being his teenager self. It was a lot harder to take that as an excuse when he took into account that this was also the unadulterated form of Edward's soul informing him of something.

"No, you don't," Intellect Edward sighed, like they had been through this many times before.

Emotion Edward whipped around to glare at him. Mustang caught a slight flinch that ran through Intellect Edward at the sharp gesture. "What did you say?" the bolder one asked.

Intellect Edward gritted his teeth before replying. "I said you don't hate him. You say you do, but you really can't. It's just easier to blame him than yourself. So stop yelling at him and face the problem!"

"Oh, like you do?" Emotion Edward snapped, getting up into what would have been the other Edward's personal space if they were not two halves of a soul. "You run away, you pretend you know what you're doing, you rely on your own incompetence, you lie, you get other people killed – you killed Alphonse, you killed your mother, you killed Nina, you killed all those people who are fighting in Liore's civil war, you killed-"

By this time, Intellect Edward had his eyes shut tightly and was closing his hands around his ears. "_Shut up_!" Mustang yelled, whirling on the knot of screaming emotions. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" The Emotion Edward glared at him and opened his mouth to say something. "Don't give me that look! You know damn well that everything you said isn't true and that you're only saying it to hurt yourself more!"

"What do you know?!" Emotion Edward shouted back. "You only picked us up because we were helpful to you, or because you _pitied_ us. You have no idea what's happened to us!"

"I suppose I only demand that you write reports to practice your penmanship skills, then? I suppose I only cover for you when the higher ups are being especially annoying, too!"

"You don't know, you don't know, you don't understand!"

"Stop screaming at me unless you really have something to say!"

"I hate you, I hate you! You don't help us, you just hurt us and send us places where we can help you get to Central! You don't do anything for us, you don't like us! If we died, it wouldn't matter unless it tarnished your reputation or-"

"STOP IT, both of you!" Intellect Edward screamed. Mustang turned sharply and saw the half-soul kneeling on the floor, arms trying to cover his head.

Emotion Edward ignored him, not even pausing in his rant. "-unless we died and got you a promotion from it. You make us think you're always going to be a colonel while we're searching for the Stone, but as soon as you get promoted and don't need us, you won't even look back! I wouldn't even be surprised if you forget about us entirely until someone hands you some paperwork and you realize it's for some state alchemist kid who died in a war you started to push your political career along, and you'll say something like 'Didn't he break my door a while back?' and then you'll sign the paperwork and forget all about us again!"

Mustang clenched his teeth together, hands tightening into fists as he stepped away from Edward. "I don't understand," he snapped.

Emotion Edward barked out a sardonic laugh. "That's not a surprise."

Mustang ignored the comment. "Do you want my help or not?" he demanded. "You come to me, you follow me around for months to the point where I think I've lost my mind from grief, but then you shout at me like you always do for… I don't even _know_ what you're shouting at me for! You act like I'm the bad guy while you break things in my office, yell at my subordinates, and cause massive damages in random towns whose only crime was to look at you strangely! And yet, you throw yourself on a sword like a martyr to get your brother's body back, blame yourself for everything that goes wrong because you put the problems of everyone else on your shoulders when the weight of your own should've crumpled you long ago, and push people onto the right path when they falter or fade. It's like you live to push everyone away, but you'd die if you failed anyone."

Edward folded his arms and started to turn away, but Mustang moved to the side to stay in his line of sight and said, "No, look at me." Edward pinched his lips together and met his piercing gaze. "You're stronger than a bull and just as headstrong as one. It makes you a force to be reckoned with, but sometimes you're not 'reckoning' the right people. When you were younger, the only way you could make people turn their heads and stare at you without snickering was by fighting your way to the top of the dog pile and growling at everyone and pretending you're invincible. You're so used to doing it that you still do, and you accidentally hurt the people around you, sometimes without even realizing it. But when you do, it breaks you inside and you pull back even further. I don't think you've figured out yet that it doesn't help at all." Edward ducked his head, bangs hiding his face from view. This time, Mustang let him do it. Ironically, considering his own name, it was a lot like training a horse – hold tightly to the reins to keep its eyes up so the master knows it is paying attention, but once it's listening, let it go because the horse has admitted defeat.

"The worst part is the self-blame. I don't know how you got it so firmly stuck in your head that your soul's halves can't even have a civil conversation with each other, but you damn well better get it worked out. This," he said, gesturing to the general air around them, "is so _not good_ I don't even have words to describe it. The most bizarre part is that you seem so dead set on getting other people to agree with your idea of self-loathing that you piss them off as best as you can without hurting them permanently so that they blame you for innocuous things! You fight about everything, but you _never _stand up for yourself when someone says you've done something wrong. I don't know how else to put it gently-" Hah. Him, gentle. "-so I'll put it a different way. You screw up…_horribly_. I can't even tell you how bad some of your mistakes have been. But none of them are things you've ever considered. You push people out, and they think you're a brat without getting to know you – something they should consider it an honor if they ever got the chance to. I know many of the people you meet on your travels look down on you for being a military dog, but it doesn't have to be like that and you could do something about it if you just didn't do your best to conform to what they think you should be. You make people consider you a villain, and you exit their lives without ever letting them think on the idea that maybe you were the hero.

"I'll ask you again, and this is going to be the last time because I'm fed up with this drama scene you're throwing in the middle of my house: Do you want my help…or _not_?"

A minute passed before Edward composed himself enough to nod his head jerkily.

Mustang felt his body loosen, although he wasn't sure when he had become so tense. "Okay," he said, almost sighing in relief at not having to fight the boy any longer about this. "We should-" A sob killed his train of thought and he jumped. It took a moment for him to realize it was coming from the trembling boy in front of him.

_Great. Now he's _crying_, you jerk_.

"Ah…" Mustang said awkwardly. Edward reached up a hand, swiping it across his face in frustration as if that would make it magically go away. Waiting a few more seconds to see if the magic would kick in – and almost disappointed when it didn't, Mustang stepped forward and carefully put his arm around Edward's shoulders, not confident about how he would take the gesture. "Look, I didn't mean-" he started haltingly. "Oh!" To his surprise, Edward quickly moved forward and hugged him tightly. After a moment, he started to release him, as if unsure whether Mustang would be alright with the gesture or not. Mustang wrapped his other arm around him in response. "Oh."

"…I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

"I'm sorry."

Sigh. "You don't have anything to be sorry for."

"I'm *hic* sorry."

"It's all going to turn out alright."

"This is my fault...again…"

Mustang reached up and rubbed the back of Edward's head. "I know buildings collapsing is a symptom of you being in the area, but you're not _always_ the cause…"

"I'm so sorry, for everything."

"Okay, just…just stop crying, hm? Let's start there. I don't really know what to say."

Edward made a strangled laugh. "Shut up, then."

Mustang rolled his eyes and looked over his shoulder to see if this was helping Intellectual Edward. He blinked for a few seconds, then quickly glanced over the rest of the room.

The other boy was gone.

Before he panicked, he looked back down at the Edward in his arms to see if he knew anything was wrong. The crying boy didn't seem to notice, but he also seemed different than when he had been yelling earlier. His hair wasn't as well kept, and he seemed thinner. Not weaker, though. Sapping someone's strength was different than sapping out their soul.

Edward pulled away a bit reluctantly, rubbing his hands across his face. "Man, I'm not living this down," he half-heartedly grumbled. "Don't ever bring this up in front of anyone again."

"Don't mention my part in this and we're even," Mustang quickly bargained. "My side's not any less embarrassing. Now that you're feeling less like a girl," he said, ignoring the glare Edward gave him from underneath his hair, "how's your head?"

"More intact," Edward muttered. "But there's two different timelines of memories and I've got to get them sorted out before everything's back to normal."

Mustang frowned thoughtfully. "Why'd it work? I mean, I'm not complaining or anything, but it just seemed a little out of the blue."

Edward shrugged, putting his hands in his pockets. "My guess would be that the emotional part made the side with the cooler head freak out, and then you made the hormonal teenager think about it logically. Once they balanced out, they were able to merge back together again."

"So, as always, this whole mess was caused by your hormones being in the way."

"…I suppose you could say it like that." He grabbed Mustang's coat off the back of a chair and slung it on. At the colonel's irritated look, he replied, "Hey, it's a civilian outfit so the military won't care, but I'm going to freeze if I go out there with this flimsy clothing on again."

"Where are you going?"

"Office. Alphonse's there, and I'll bet everyone's going to want to know why I was running around all over the place." He clapped his hands and placed them on the floor. Mustang jumped out of the way as the carpet seemed to shake itself, and all of the chalk flew up into a dust cloud. "Oops," Edward barely had time to mutter before he and Mustang dissolved into a sneezing and coughing fit.

The colonel finally grabbed the teenager and pulled him out the front door. After locking it behind him, he took a few deep breaths of fresh air to try and get the dust out of his lungs. He shot Edward a glare before starting off down the road, young teenager in tow behind him. It was the middle of the day, which explained why no one had heard their outraged screaming for the last half hour. The streets were mostly empty, since it was a neighborhood and everyone was at work or school. Once their rasping breaths were soothed, it was a quiet walk back to the Central HQ.

Just before they left the residential district, Edward paused and looked up warily at the colonel. "You know that what…the hormonal side said…back when you were about to do the transmutation… You know he – I – didn't mean it, right? It's not your fault, any of this."

Mustang sighed, not even slowing down. "Keep going, Edward."

The teenager scowled immediately, running to catch up. "You hypocrite! You yelled at me for the blame game, and you've been doing it this entire time too! What bull crap…"

"It's not about whether I think it was my fault or not," Mustang said, "it's about who put you into the position. You might have made a few wrong decisions in there that made the building collapse, but you wouldn't have even been in the building if I hadn't put you there. It _would_ have been my fault if you died."

"Well," Edward huffed, "whatever. But, speaking as my soul, I wouldn't have blamed you for it, so I don't see why you should."

"Whatever," Mustang said, accidentally repeating the younger's word choice.

"Hey, colonel…" Edward said absently, irritation briefly fading away.

"This can't be good," Mustang muttered.

"Did you mean it?"

"I knew it."

"It's just a question!"

Mustang sighed. "Did I mean what, Fullmetal?"

"Back when you were talking to my emotional self, right after he – I? – went off on you for everything. You said something. Did you mean it?"

"_Because despite everything you've done to me, despite all the towns you've pissed off, despite all the officials you've sworn out, and despite all the general trouble you've caused…"_

Mustang pretended to think back, buying himself time. "I don't recall my words, to be honest."

Edward scowled. "Yeah you do."

"_You are the bravest, smartest, strongest, and kindest teenager I have ever known." _

Mustang looked over and raised one eyebrow. Edward stared back with an innocent and curious expression on his face. Taking advantage of the once in a lifetime opportunity, the colonel reached over and ruffled the blond's hair. While the boy squawked in outrage, he smirked and said, "Of course."

* * *

a/n: About halfway through this story, I realized I had no idea what was going to happen. The ending was as surprising to you as it was to me!

Okay, to help explain the two Edwards more: Think of them as being logical versus not logical, instead of intellect versus emotion. It just looked weird if I typed it like that so I didn't. Emotion Edward is smart, but doesn't always use his common sense. Intellect Edward is quicker to realize that maybe something isn't a good idea, but he doesn't have the drive to get him past the initial fear of failure.

And Edward sending Alphonse to Central – remember, this was the logical side sending him and not the emotional part.


End file.
